Marry Me Again
by Kandakicksass
Summary: "Troy, you've been married for four years. How could he forget?" A car accident turns Ryan Evans-Bolton's life upside down and now, he has to learn to be a good husband to a man he doesn't remember marrying. Tryan slash. REPOST, twoshot. Important edits.


**Hey, everybody. I was going to delete this story due to lack of interest, then found interest again. Of course, I actually deleted it, so this is a repost. What I've done is separated it into a two shot – everything I've posted so far is all in one chapter, and the rest will be in a second. I've also edited and added things important to the story, so it's probably a good idea to re-read this.**

**What I need you to do: flood me with feedback! We all know that we need more Tryan, and your reviews keep me motivated and excited! *insert review whoring here***

Before Ryan Evans even opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong. He was tired and most of his chest and abdomen hurt like he'd been hit with a car. His body was heavy and he focused on his breathing, hoping not to end up panicking. There was a hand gripping his that was too strong and wide to be Sharpay's. It was also too calloused to be his father's, so he couldn't fathom who it could belong to, or why he would be holding the blonde's hand.

"When will he wake up?"

He thought he knew that voice, but he had to be mistaken. After all, why would Troy Bolton be at his bedside—or, as he realized from the proximity of the his voice, holding his hand? Then it occurred to him it wasn't quite his bedside—more like his _hospital _bedside.

"I don't know."

That was Sharpay's voice, but he'd never heard her so tired. Her normally clear, rather arrogant voice was hoarse and weak, like she'd spent a long time crying.

"Shar, come on. Didn't she said something while I was asleep or something?"

Shar? Since when did Troy call his sister "Shar"? Had he lost his memory or something? He couldn't believe that had happened, but other than this being an alternate universe he'd somehow wound up in, he couldn't otherwise explain what was going on here. How much time had he missed? The last thing he remembered was working on the choreography for the senior year musical yesterday…

A chill settled through him. What if it hadn't been yesterday? Only God knew how much time he had lost.

"No, Troy. Nothing. The last thing our dear _Dr. _Danforth said was about potential memory loss, while you were getting us coffee."

He heard someone's voice hitch, followed by the shallow breathing of a person drenched in panic, trying to calm themselves and failing.

"When are Mom and Dad going to get here? You just talked to them, right?"

They were obviously talking about his and Sharpay's parents, but... _Mom and Dad_? God, had Troy _married _Sharpay?

"They should land in an hour or so. Of course this would happen while they're in Florida on vacation." Sharpay didn't just sound tired- she sounded exhausted, and worried to boot.

"Shar!" Troy's voice was sharp. "This isn't the time to stay stuff like that! I mean, this is serious—oh, God! What if he doesn't remember me?"

This time Sharpay chuckled, though the sound was dry.

"Troy, you've been married for four years. How could he forget? Besides, we've known each other since Kindergarten. Danforth said there was no way he'll lose all of his memories, and that's if he loses any at all."

"Four years, eleven months, and two weeks, roughly. But you know I meant being married, not just knowing me."

Ryan coughed, trying to speak. "M-married?" It took three tries to get out. He attempted to open his eyes, but the light blinded him, and he shut them again.

"Ryan!" Troy sounded relieved. He tried to open his eyes again, this time with more success. Troy's face slowly went from a blur to crystal clear. Shaggy brown hair and a baby face, but it was obvious some years had passed. He was a man now, one Ryan would peg from twenty-four to thirty. His blue eyes hadn't changed at all, though; they were still the same deep pools of sapphire that he'd known since childhood yet rarely interacted with.

Ryan wasn't gay—he hoped—but why did Troy look even more gorgeous than before?

Then Troy leaned down and kissed him, full on the lips, and Ryan was astounded, both from the kiss itself and the fact that Troy was… crying? When Troy let his unresponsive lips go, he simply sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the stunned blonde into his arms, cradling his head gently, musing up hair longer than he was used to.

"Oh, my beautiful Ryan," the brunette basketball player breathed, his voice choked with emotion. "I thought you were dead." Ryan was so overwhelmed by Troy's relief, strong and honest, that he couldn't speak.

"No, he's serious," Sharpay interjected snidely, though her relief was as obvious as Troy's. "He wouldn't shut up. I realize you're his husband, but jeez." At the sound of her voice, he looked over at his sister.

She was still impeccably dressed as always in a simple white baby doll shirt. Her hair was much shorter than it was in his memories, chin-length and curled in perfect ringlets. Her face hadn't changed, but there were dark bags under her stunning chocolate eyes.

They just stared at each other for a moment, but when Ryan began hyperventilating, his sister's eyes widened and she spoke up, understanding immediately. Troy was frozen, but Ryan could see his lower lip quiver slightly. He, too, obviously understood.

"Troy, babe, just go get something to drink, okay? I'm going to try and explain," Sharpay said quickly, pulling Ryan from Troy's arms, who allowed himself to be moved manually, like a rag doll.

Troy gave her a desperate look that Ryan watched in both horror and fascination. "I—Shar, shouldn't I explain? He's my _husband_, I—" Sharpay shook her head, looking pained.

"Troy, he doesn't remember," she told him softly as she stroked Ryan's hair. "To him, you're just Troy Bolton, East High golden boy."

A pang of something sharp made his heart squeeze uncomfortably because the brunette's expression had gone from shocked to devastated. Troy released his hold on Ryan's hand and backed away slowly.

"I…" It was like he didn't know what to say, and he probably didn't. "I'll… come back when Shar's done. If you want." He sounded stunned, and practically ran out of the room before Ryan could say anything. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that Troy had begun crying again.

"I'm married? To Troy?"

Sharpay looked down at her gob smacked brother with a dry grin. "Yeah. Almost five years now. You guys are like, the perfect couple."

Ryan paled. "I'm not gay."

At this, the blonde performer snorted in a way very unlike Sharpay. "Ryan, I know you would turn out gay before you came out just before prom. It was obvious, to me, at least. It just took some extra practice sessions with Troy for you to realize it." Was she really saying he'd married the boy who had turned him-he mentally grimaced-gay?

"So… we're… in love?" he asked weakly. With a softer expression, Sharpay nodded.

"Madly. It's almost sickening." Good to know Shar was still Shar.

Ryan took a deep breath. "And… we have a platonic relationship, right?" It took an idiot to not realize what he wanted to know, and the female Evans twin was no fool. She laughed.

"Platonic? Only in your in-denial dreams, Ry. Troy fucked you in the ass once and you were a goner. Seriously. You two have the kinkiest relationship I know of. You love each other, in all senses of the word." Ryan winced at both what she was telling him and the wording.

Ryan groaned, running his face with the hand not connected to the heart monitor. "Thanks for the details, sis."

She laughed again. "You call those details? That's nothing. I still have that sex tape the pool boy shot last year. Don't tell Troy about that, though. He's been trying to find it for a while so he could burn it. He was furious about the whole fiasco," she chirped proudly.

Ryan opened his mouth to say something—something likely to be angry and very loud about his private sex life, whether he remembered it or not—when he was interrupted.

"Hello, Sharpay. I see he's awake?"

Sharpay nodded and Ryan looked over in shock at the familiar coffee-colored woman with a white coat on and an amused smile.

"Well, well, Ryan Bolton," Taylor greeted him with a warm smile. "Good to see you awake. When was the last time we've seen each other? Our high school five year? It's hard living an hour away from each other without hanging out sometimes. Guess work comes first for everyone." She paused. "At least you call, though. Gabi doesn't get in touch at all."

"Ryan Bolton," he repeated when she finished speaking, his voice quiet. The words sounded strange on his tongue, and apparently he was obvious about the big blank in his memory, because Taylor's smile fell. He tried not to let his mind stray and wonder why she'd gone into medicine when she'd wanted to be a lawyer.

"Oh, no," she sighed. "Ryan, what is the last thing you remember?" Her voice was clipped, but Ryan could tell it wasn't because she was angry… it was because she was upset.

"Um… early our senior year. Taylor, what _happened_ to me?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation. "I can't remember a thing since I was trying to work out the routine for the musical yesterday. Or… whenever it was."

Taylor sighed, and took Troy's seat next to his bed. "It's been seven years since then, Ryan." He stiffened, his stomach churning. "You were in an accident a couple days ago, in that flashy blue convertible Troy bought you for Christmas a couple years back. You don't have too much damage, but when the cars collided, something hit you pretty hard in the head. We think it came from the backseat of your car—you had a stereo in the back that we found in pieces that we think might have been it."

Ryan nodded, and sighed.

"Great. This is great." Then something occurred to him—something that sounded pretty selfish and incredibly rude, but he had to know. "Are we still rich?" He was just a bit curious whether he... and Troy... were going to go into serious debt because of these hospital bills.

Sharpay laughed. "Yes, Ry. Of course. You're actually getting pretty big nowadays; you live the good life doing what you do. Composing all day long, and coming up with choreography for different things, stuff like that. That alone would make you pretty wealthy, but you're also married to a huge basketball star—one of the few out of the closet basketball players, so..."

"I'm sure John Amaechi would have been proud," Ryan said softly, chuckling with little humor.

Sharpay laughed, too. "Wow. Now, why would you know that if you were straight?"

Ryan stopped laughing as heat flooded his cheeks. "Sharpay, I'm a gay rights supporter! Remember, I did a project on it as a sophomore?"

She chucked under her breath, and nodded. "I remember." She sobered when she said that and her smile faded.

Taylor did a few basic check ups, asking him if his vision and hearing were alright and the like. Before she left to go run a couple more tests, she looked back at the door.

"Ryan, I understand if you don't want to see him—don't pressure yourself if you don't—but… would you like Troy to come in?"

Sharpay froze, her eyes locked on Ryan's face.

To be honest, Ryan was almost frozen, too, but he took a deep breath (on command of his lungs, which demanded that he did so) and nodded. "Yeah. Let him in. I can't just tell him to bugger off—oh, crap, that sounded bad. Not that I _want _him to—oh, forget it. Just send him in, okay, Taylor?" She nodded. "Thanks."

He looked at the band around his wrist while he waited. _Connecticut? That's quite a move. Gay marriage, and I landed Taylor McKessie as a doctor. That's quite a—they said Dr. Danforth. Well, that explains that. Taylor went to Yale, she married Chad, Chad moved here, Troy and I… weird… followed Chad. At least that makes sense._

"Ryan?" Troy was quiet, not revealing any of the sadness that Ryan was sure he felt—really, when had he become such an expert on Troy's feelings?—but Ryan could see that his brilliant cobalt eyes, so much darker than his own grey-blue, were slightly red. "Taylor said I could come in."

Ryan nodded and with a sigh of relief, Troy entered the room, coming to stand a few feet away from the bed.

Irritation ebbed into Ryan; why did Troy have to stand so far away? He didn't understand why he cared—_you're married to him, Ryan. He's your husband, no matter how weird this is for you. This must be killing him, having to stay away from you when you're _married_. Do you really want him to suffer like that?_ The answer was no, he didn't, and with that thought, he reached out for him and said clearly, "Get over here, you big oaf. You're too far away."

Troy blinked, but came closer, sitting back down in the chair he had been before. He twitched, and Ryan agreed with his body's obvious objection. He didn't know why (God, he wished he did), but Troy was still too far away.

"Troy," he growled. "You're not helping. If I'm your husband, I have to get used to the idea. Come _here _and hold me." Normally, he wasn't so forward, but he had this horrible _ache _in the back of his head, and he was irritated. His words did the trick, though, and Troy slid onto the edge of the bed, gently pulling Ryan into his arms. He let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding.

"I'm so sorry," Troy whispered into his hair and he sounded on the verge of tears again. "Gods, I—"

"You're not at fault," Sharpay broke in with a roll of the eyes. "Jeez." Ryan laughed, a tad hysterically.

"Of course you're not at fault," he agreed, but he was nibbling on his lower lip, in deep thought. "I'll be honest. I don't know what to say." He looked down at the leg pressed against his own, reaching up and wrapping a hand around the tanned arm wrapped around his torso. "I… I have no idea, actually." He looked up with unintentionally large blue eyes. "Troy. Teach me."

Troy looked stunned that Ryan wasn't going to try and dissolve their marriage, everything left unsaid between them. As a matter of fact, he looked positively shocked stupid. "Teach you… what?"

"How to be with you," he answered, then bit his lip again. "I don't know how this will end, but… I want to try. I would feel horrible, knowing that some stupid accident completely ruined your marriage." And your life, his brain supplied helpfully and he blanched.

"Our marriage," Troy corrected softly, lacing their fingers together, and despite how weird it felt to him, he squeezed back, trying to get used to the feel of his slender hand in Troy's.

"Right," he agreed with a weak grin. Honestly, what else was he supposed to say? Instead of continuing any sort of conversation, Ryan just set his head on Troy's chest, resting while he tried to wrap his head around the fact that to a man—that he was married to the Troy Bolton, the East High Golden Boy... a god in his arms.

Troy was so warm, though, he thought as he snuggled into a firm, muscular chest. The arms around him were strong and protective. Though he didn't like it, he was starting to feel almost proud of this angel holding him. How had he managed to snag the boy they all thought was destined to marry and have several little kids with Gabriella? This man they all had assumed was more god than man? He came to the conclusion that he must be a god of sorts himself in bed because why else would Troy Bolton want him?

Of course, that sent his mind on another tangent he wasn't sure what he thought about. Was he really that compatible with Troy? There must be some reason they had wound up on this path and with that thought, he pulled back just enough to look up. Troy met his gaze with a confused look and yes, he'd obviously been crying. For some reason, the thought made his heart ache slightly.

He leaned up, his heart thudding uncomfortably as he met Troy's eyes. He normally wouldn't even consider doing this under normal circumstances, but... Troy was less than six inches away, lips swollen and red from being worried and Ryan thought he had more brain damage than he'd originally been told because he suddenly wanted to know what it was like to kiss this man he was married to. He was just so curious and needed to know.

Without further ado, he pressed their lips together lightly in what was essentially an attempt to try to figure if he liked it or not. Troy sat there in shock for a moment, despite Ryan's half-attempts to get him to respond, and Ryan was about to declare this venture highly anticlimactic when suddenly, the boy wonder responded, kissing back almost desperately. Ryan was taken aback but he didn't pull away. Instead, he opened his mouth hesitantly and allowed a powerful, hot tongue slide in and will his own to play. Ryan hadn't experienced many kisses that he remembered, but from his limited knowledge... he was being devoured with more passion than he'd ever felt before and he loved it. Did Troy always kiss with such intensity?

When he pulled away he was panting slightly, his cheeks pink, and Troy was peppering kisses all over his face. "I know you're still trying to get your bearings, but..." Troy broke off and kissed him again, this time far gentler than he had the first time. "You have no idea how worried I was about you." Ryan just nodded, burying his face in Troy's shirt and inhaled the scent of his husband. On the other side of his bed, Sharpay sat quietly, tracing a figure eight on the back of the hand that still rested on the bed next to her.

"We were all worried," she said, squeezing his hand. He nodded.

"I suppose you had a reason, what with me lacking seven year's worth of memories." He chuckled softly. "I'm really sorry, Shar, Troy... that you have to deal with this. It's not fair to you."

"Ryan," Troy said firmly. "There wasn't a damn thing you did wrong, do you hear me? There was nothing you could have done and just the fact that you're going to try to be my husband instead of just asking for a divorce..." He choked on the last word, showing just how deep his worry and fear went. "The fact that you're being open about this..."

"I never said that this will work out." He paused, and have Troy a small smile. "But I would like to try. You'll just have to be patient with me, I suppose." He leaned forward, offering a kiss, and Troy closed his eyes and accepted it with a sweet sigh.

"I'm just glad you're alive," Troy whispered against his lips and Ryan shuddered, having never felt anything so innocently intimate before.

"Troy," he whispered and kissed him again, deciding there and then in what was likely a rather impulsive decision that he really wanted this relationship to work out. He liked being wanted, and he really thought that he could, despite his apparently incorrect sexuality, that he really could want Troy back. He wanted to, wanted this secure, loving relationship.

He wanted Troy, wanted to try.

He looked up again, examining Troy's face while the brunette brushed blonde hair from his face, kissing every inch of skin on his face once more and he leaned into the affections, putting each one down to memory. He took the hand cupping his face and pressed a kiss to the palm, making Troy chuckle tiredly. "I think you're still in shock. You're taking this far too calmly," he murmured, caressing Ryan's hair. "No declarations of undying love until you're home and I'm sure you're entirely there in the head, okay?" Ryan laughed slightly, in complete agreement.

"I meant what I said, though," he said as Troy let go and allowed him to lay back down. "I want to try. I refuse to just… abandon you." He grabbed Troy's hand and squeezed in the comforting way Sharpay had for him. "I've always wanted someone to love me like you seem to…" He blushed and shut his mouth, but Troy's smile was just a little wider when he leaned down to whisper in his ear—_rest now_—and kiss his temple.

He fell asleep again, suddenly exhausted, to the sound of Sharpay's soothing voice humming a lullaby for him and Troy's grip on his hand.

* * *

><p>Ryan stared out the window of his husband's modest BMW, his expression thoughtful. The neighborhood- theirs, as Troy told him- was nice, filled with rows of large, pretty houses and gardens. Children played in their yards, rode bikes up and down the sidewalk. He'd never lived in a real neighborhood before; Lava Springs had no nearby neighbors and the house he lived in with Shar during the year had only two. Both families, one on each side of their three story Victorian-inspired home, were so isolated he didn't really count them - he'd met only the girl from the family on the left, and he saw her only very rarely.<p>

"Please, tell me what you're thinking about," Troy said from his left and he looked over, feeling guilty. The brunette looked like the silence was driving him nuts and Ryan immediately opened his mouth to break it.

"I was just thinking about how nice this area is."

Troy's agonized expression disappeared and a relieved half smile broke through. "I was hoping you'd feel that way still. It really is a nice place- that's why we picked this area."

"Is it a big house?" Every house that they passed, Ryan would wonder if theirs was like it. He wanted to see it so badly...

"Here we are," Troy chuckled by way of reply, clearly amused, and dammit, he'd been watching the wrong side of the road.

"Oh," he murmured and stepped out. "Oh..."

Troy's proud smile grew. "When we found it, you told me you wanted a large house, but not a mansion. I agreed... though we still have a maid come in once a month to do some major power cleaning." It did look like it needed one with two stories and an attic, beautiful and Victorian inspired. He had a feeling he was the one who insisted on the style of the house, but he was glad for it.

"It's lovely," he said honestly, a smile growing on his face. "Troy, I love it."

"I'd hoped you would. I had few doubts, though. You haven't changed much over the years." He hadn't noticed Troy had moved to his side and the arm around his waist surprised him, but he didn't move away. "You painted most of the front yourself, you know."

"I'm proud of myself," he said with a little chuckle, disbelieving. How could he have such a lovely house, such a seemingly wonderful life, with Troy? He honestly didn't understand how that had happened.

"So, are we just going to stand here and watch the house, or are we going in?" He jumped, nearly whacking Troy in the jaw, and winced in apology. "Stand here?" He was pretty sure his face was by then the darkest shade of red it had ever been.

"No, we can go in," he muttered, shuffling out of Troy's arms and toward the house. He didn't miss the muffled chuckle from his husband.

Still a weird thought.

He felt bad about acting like a stranger with Troy, thinking the word husband like it was in a different language, but he didn't suppose there was anything he could do about it. He sighed as he pulled out the key Troy had handed him before they left the hospital, on a ring with several others. He only knew that the one he was using was actually the house key because it had its own cover, which was pretty darn cute even if he couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be.

He slid the key into the lock, turning it. He imagined he could hear the tumblers unlock his door, and memorized the sound, the feel - the entire moment. "Ryan?" He ignored the brunette and opened the door, stepping inside hesitantly. There was a small square of tile in the entrance, then a step, and a vast space that included his living room, dining room, and kitchen. It was wide and open, the carpet white, the wood floors polished. The kitchen counters were marble and the cupboards were oak, as was the kitchen floor. There was a lovely staircase, carpeted, and several rows of shelves with various pictures and knickknacks.

Ryan looked around in awe, falling in love with his home. There was a piano in the corner left of the door, as well as a guitar on a stand. Next to the piano was a large bookcase. The top two large shelves were filled with music books, and the rest were filled with CDs. A huge stereo system was sitting next to the bookcase.

Behind him, Troy was taking off his shoes and Ryan toed his own off, a pair of simple grey Converse. He'd always thought that any adult wearing the sneakers were a bit off, but they looked good on him, and they were comfortable, so he wasn't about to stop. He stepped on the carpet, amazed at how soft it was.

"Okay, Ryan, I know you're used to living like this. Why do you look so fascinated?"

Ryan glanced back at him with a huge smile, forcing away the uncomfortable feeling that he was living someone else's life. "But this - this is all mine!" He laughed out loud, his sock-covered toes digging into the plush carpet. "Can you blame me for being amazed?" Before thinking about it, being the touchy-feely person he was, he threw his arms around Troy's neck and hugged him. "Thank you. It seems like you've been doing an excellent job." Troy's cheeks were the slightest bit pink, but he hugged back without hesitation, unlike many other people Ryan had hugged in the past. And why should he? Unlike all those friends - who had turned out to be not quite that - this man was married to him, as weird as that thought was and he _really _needed to stop thinking like that.

"Troy, do I seem gay to you?"

Troy blinked down at him, his arms still wrapped around his waist, and raised an eyebrow. "Strange timing for that question, but to answer the question... well, I can't really think of you in any other way." He paused and smirked. "Then again, I can't really see you with any other man, either, so..."

"I get it," Ryan griped, pulling away. "You're biased." Troy laughed.

"Damn straight I am," he agreed and kissed him on the lips, softly, before letting him pull away. Now it was Ryan's turn to blush, and. He did. "What? You were all over me at the hospital." He seemed to realize how rude that had been and added quickly in an apologetic tone, "I'm sorry. You of course don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

"No," he said softly, thinking about how awkward this had suddenly become. "No, it's fine. I have to get used to it." He was yelling at himself inside—he _was _all over Troy, hugging him constantly, acting like nothing was up. He suddenly got the feeling he was teasing the man, being so familiar with him without being quite comfortable with being romantically intimate the way Troy was used to.

Troy sighed. "No, Ry, you don't. If you're not gay you're not gay, no matter what anybody says."

"I don't know if I'm gay or not!" he sighed, trying not to snap at him. "And that's the problem. I knew I should have instead of avoiding it, but last week - whenever it was - I didn't think about sex at all if I could help it! I took it for granted that I was straight, but I didn't think about it with any depth either way." He bit his lip and leaned into Troy again, who was just so _warm_. "I want to know. And we're already married, so why shouldn't I try in all areas?"

Troy sighed, but didn't push him away. "I'm not going to be the tester for your curiosity, Ryan, as much as I love you."

"That's not what this is!" he argued, not quite sure why he was arguing in the first place. "I just wanted you to know that I'm not forcing myself to accept this, and that maybe I'm being all huggy with you is because I'm enjoying being wanted because I never have been, not really, and I may be just a little bit attracted to you and that I don't really care about the gay thing because I only really care about being cared about as stupid and sappy as that is and-" Troy cut him off with a soft kiss and a smile.

"You really haven't changed much since high school," he murmured against his lips. "You gave me almost that exact speech back then, too. Which was a bit strange because I was the one who finally got the balls to ask you on a date. But then, you always were eccentric." Ryan blushed and tried to pull away, but Troy held on tight. "Thank you, Ryan, for being here."

Ryan paused in his internal civil war and melted against the brunette's body. "Doesn't it feel weird?" he mumbled into Troy's chest. "I mean, being with me when I'm really not your husband?"

For that one, his hair was jerked back (he only contemplated how that was possible for a moment before remembering his hair was longer now than it had been in high school), not quite painfully, but he was soothed with a soft kiss anyway. "Ryan," Troy said gently, reverently. Just the way Troy said his name sent a shiver down his spine. "You are the same man you've been for the past seven years; you just don't remember it. I'm just glad you're alive." How was it that Troy's voice, which had never affected him like this before, could turn his knees to jelly?

"I feel different," he whispered, his arms around Troy, the pads of his fingers digging into his grey sweatshirt. He could feel the muscles under his palms and pressed just a bit closer, just the littlest bit amazed that Troy didn't move away; he only tightened his arms around him. He inhaled the scent of Troy - somehow woodsy - that filled his lungs. He looked up, a thought occurring to him. "You play basketball?"

Troy blinked in surprise before smiling. "Well, not really - not so much anymore. I did, but it took me away from home too much, and I missed you." He'd buried his face in Ryan's hair, nuzzling his nose into the spot just below his ear. "I'm a sponsor, right now, and I'm managing a couple of the players, for press conferences and the like." Ryan nodded to show he understood because he really didn't want to speak and ruin this. They were quite for a few moments, standing near the door with their arms tightly around each other. "I was so worried about you." Troy's voice broke.

Before Ryan could respond, Troy was tugging him toward the entertainment center and ultimately, a leather couch covered in blankets and pillows. He was pulled down next to the brunette and was arranged to lay half-across his body, Troy's warmth filtering through him. The large couch gave them plenty of room and Ryan let out a calm sigh and closed his eyes, resting his head on his husband's chest. "Do we do this often?" he asked softly, thinking in the back of his mind that he wanted to explore the rest of the house but that he really didn't feel any pressing need to move. "Just lay here?"

Troy hummed his response. "Mmm-hmm. Quite often."

"S'nice," he murmured back, a small smile on his lips.

"That's probably why we do," he heard Troy tease but didn't respond, even as he felt him press a kiss to his blonde hair.

* * *

><p>He woke up at least an hour later, nestled into Troy's arms, his face pressed into a tanned neck. His legs were tangled with Troy's and there were warm, powerful arms around him, grounding him. He had dreamed, but didn't remember what, and didn't quite mind. This was enough of a dream for him.<p>

"Ry?"

He heard the door shut, not that he'd heard it open, and just called out a sleepy, "On the couch."

Sharpay, shoeless (he would bet on a pair of heels being next to his own at the door), padded over to them with a relieved smile. "You look happy." Troy grumbled in his sleep and rested his chin on Ryan's head, wordlessly telling him not to move. He didn't.

"I am," he replied with a smile. "How can I not be? I'm warm, comfortable, and - mm - loved." He nuzzled Troy's throat with his nose. Sharpay's smile was unusually bright, but she looked genuinely happy for him and he couldn't argue with that.

"I'm not surprised," she shrugged. "You guys do this all the time. Anyway, I only dropped by to check on you and borrow a book from the library I know you have, so if you don't mind, I'll just do—"

"Library?" Ryan perked up immediately, pulling out of Troy's arms and standing, leaving him on the couch alone with a pillow. He knew his hair was mused, but he didn't care no matter how big Sharpay's 'aw, he's so cute' smile got. "We have a library?"

Sharpay's eyebrows shot to her hairline. "Did you guys seriously just walk in and take a nap without taking the full tour? God, your husband is an idiot." Ryan couldn't help but laugh as she walked over, grabbed his wrist, and led him to the staircase, taking them two at a time.

"I like him," he replied casually, not even thinking about the words. "I honestly don't know why I felt so angry with him a few years ago."

"We've decided you were jealous he was with Gabi and those other girls instead of you," Sharpay said in a teasing voice, but Ryan only had a second to think about Gabi before Sharpay was talking again and he forgot what he was going to say. "I also don't think you're quite realizing what being married to him means, though." She raised an eyebrow at him as she led him down a hallway.

"What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sex, idiot. I don't think it's sunk in for you that this is real. You do realize that you really are _married_ to Troy, right? I mean, for life, sex and love and you don't get to bang anyone on the side, right?"

"Obviously," he huffed, annoyed, but he felt a little alarm go off in the back of his mind telling him that maybe he should think about this a bit more seriously. Maybe he _was _still in shock. He gulped when Sharpay turned back to the hall instead of scrutinizing him, and she stopped outside of the last door in the hall. She went in, but he stood in the hallway, staring at a mirror hung up decoratively over a little table covered in flowers.

He wasn't sure the depth of the situation had hit him yet, but it did now. His hair _was _longer, a little messy but straight and blonde as always. He looked just a little bit more muscular, obviously the muscles of a dancer, and he still had a damn baby face. He'd already noticed that unlike any other guy he knew, he had such little body hair that he looked like a prepubescent girl, and he was a bit self-conscious about that. Smooth underarms, nearly smooth legs, smooth arms, smooth chest, smooth face. He frowned, almost a pout, and blushed when he noticed that he still looked like he was eighteen. He had a feeling Troy was being a bit literal when saying he hadn't changed much since high school.

"Ryan?" Sharpay was standing in the doorway to the library. "C'mon, nerd, didn't you want to see it?"

Ryan forced his eyes from his reflection and gave Sharpay a tight smile. "Of course." He took her offered hand, manicured and perfect, and let her pull him inside. It was probably a good thing she got him in, because the minute he saw what was inside, his eyes widened and he went still in awe.

Growing up, Ryan didn't read much—he was always singing, singing, singing, following his dream of being a star. The last few years of high school, though, had him studying near constantly, and studying turned into reading for pleasure, and whenever he hadn't been dancing or singing, he was sitting in a comfortable chair, reading. He had a love of books that seemed to grow each time he read a new one and while it didn't particularly shock him that his future self had a library of his own, it was still a bit surprising to see a room the size of a small bedroom lined with shelves that went to the ceiling, completely filled with books.

There were two leather chairs and a small coffee table in one corner, obviously for comfortable reading, and a small ladder underneath the table, likely for reaching the top shelves. There was a book on the table, a bookmark sticking out of the top, and Ryan wasn't sure what to say. "It's so pretty," he settled with and Sharpay laughed at him. He had a childish urge to call her Sharpie in punishment for the rest of the night, but he let it slide when he looked to the side to see Troy in the doorway, looking so sleepy and gorgeous that Ryan couldn't help but smile.

"It's lovely," he said by way of greeting and Troy's smile, while still somewhat tired, widened a bit.

"I gave you the plans for it for your first birthday after we moved in," he explained, pushing off of the doorway and into the room. "It had been a guest bedroom till then. You were ecstatic to have it turned into a library."

"I like books," he defended himself unnecessarily and Troy laughed.

"So I've gathered over the years," he chuckled. "But hey, at least I'll always know what to buy you for holidays."

"Troy," Sharpay interjected with a roll of the eyes. "It doesn't count, because you buy him books, and then just add everything else on. You still have to call me asking 'do you think he'd like this?' at least eight times a year." Troy's cheeks went pink and Ryan had to stifle a snicker. "Men. You'd think he'd have figured out what you like on his own by now."

"Shar," Troy growled and Ryan was covering his mouth to stop the laughter from getting out. "Every time I've called you, I've already had something picked out. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it's perfect, anyway. I just want a second opinion when it's important—"

"—Or not important," she butted in snidely.

"—because he's worth it." He took a seat in one of the chairs with a glare directed at Ryan's sister and Ryan walked over to stand next to him, wanting to be close, wanting to take advantage of how Troy would hold him (he'd always been almost overly affectionate, and no one had ever held him like he was precious, not the way Troy did), but afraid to ask. Without really thinking about it, Troy took his hand and pulled him between his legs, tugging him down onto his lap. Ryan happily fixed his arms around Troy's neck and arranged himself so he was comfortable.

Sharpay watched them with a strange look, like she couldn't figure out whether she was happy for him or a little worried. He could understand that—honestly, he was a bit worried himself. He probably wasn't taking this situation as seriously as he should have been and he knew it. He was comfortable now, but he had a feeling that it would come back to bite him in the ass when this whole thing really sunk in and while he wasn't going to stop being so familiar with Troy (he had the right, didn't he?), he would have to start taking time to think things through before—

Troy laid a gentle kiss on the line of his jaw and he shifted just a bit closer to Troy's chest, humming while Sharpay pulled a few books from the shelves. She looked a little uncomfortable, and opened her mouth to say something, but she shut it again almost as quickly. Instead of ruining the peace, she simply sighed and moved into the other chair and starting talking about her job, filling Ryan in on the last several years of her life.

He _knew _it would bite him in the ass eventually, but for now, he was content.

* * *

><p>Ryan held a cup of hot chocolate in his hands the day after he'd come home from the hospital, almost too hot but not quite. He sat on the couch with Troy, the brunette's hand on his knee, watching TV. He wasn't quite sure what it was, actually, though Troy was bored with all of it and kept flipping through channels on a touch pad remote. Ryan hadn't quite figured out all the technology as of yet, to be honest – Troy had shown him his phone earlier that day and it was completely foreign to him. He would figure out how to work it sometime, but he didn't think it would be any time soon.<p>

They were interrupted by a knock on the door and Troy blinked, looking over his shoulder at it. "Come in!" he called, too lazy to get up and Ryan gave him a curious look. Had they been expecting someone? Troy was looking a little nervous and Ryan didn't think that meant good things for him.

"Ry," Troy said in a soft voice as the door opened. "I know that it's probably a little too soon, but I couldn't hold her off forever, and she was really worried about you." Ryan blinked at the man he had yet to really acknowledge as his husband, uncomprehending.

"Dad? Daddy?"

Ryan stiffened and turned from Troy to the girl standing in their doorway. "Come in, Ariel. It's fine."

She was lovely though a bit too thin, dressed in a light yellow blouse and cutoff jeans, with long blonde hair and fair skin. She toed her shoes off, a pair of ballet flats, and walked over, moving with fluid grace that Ryan found himself a little surprised by. The girl, Ariel, was clearly still a teenager, though he couldn't quite pin her age.

"Ariel, I told you," Troy scolded gently. "Hold back a little bit, okay? Ryan doesn't remember you."

Ryan half expected the frail looking girl to take it personally, get upset, but she just smiled shyly and nodded. "Sorry, Dad." Troy sighed, but didn't say anything. "I'm, um, Ariel," she introduced herself, coming up with her hand outstretched. Ryan shook it, feeling a little out of sorts.

"She lives down the street," Troy explained.

"And my family situation isn't exactly the best," she added, shrugging, blushing just a bit. "When you moved here, I was out a lot and I ran into you two."

"We kind of adopted her," Troy said slowly.

"Which would explain why she's calling us her fathers," Ryan observed, feeling a tad numb. Ariel's unsure grin slipped and she started fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "I'm not sure what to say."

"I knew it was too soon," Troy murmured softly.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Ariel said in response, sounding miserable.

"No," Ryan sighed, holding a hand up. "This is something I needed to know. I'm not upset or anything… just a little overwhelmed." He really need to shake himself, maybe get into another car accident, just to get some clarity because this whole situation was becoming more and more unreal the longer it went on. "I'm sorry, Ariel," he told her timidly and she shook her head.

"It's not your fault," she said, which was what pretty much everyone was telling him. He wasn't sure how he felt about it coming from her, too. "And I'm not… that bad off. I mean, you don't mind if I hang out here, do I?" She paused, then seemed to panic. "I could do dishes and stuff, help out around the house if you want. I just can't spend all that time at my house, not with my mom, and I don't know where else to go. I promise not to get on your nerves or anything—" It seemed that she was a lot more concerned about the whole affair than she was letting on and Ryan's expression softened.

"Hey," he said gently. "Calm down. Nobody's kicking you out. It's just a lot to get used to. Give me some time." She deflated, nodding with her head hung.

"Ariel," Troy murmured. "Come here." He got up, leading her around the couch, and sat her between them. "We'll watch some TV and get to know each other, okay? It's going to be fine." Troy was reassuring, totally calm, though Ryan could tell how much he hated seeing their… _adoptive daughter _upset. She looked over at Ryan as if she could hear what he was thinking, with dry eyes. He half expected her to be in tears, but she wasn't and he felt a sort of respect for the girl. He smiled at her, as genuinely as he could, and she smiled back tentatively.

He leaned back, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. Her hand slipped into his.

"I missed you," she whispered halfway through some random reality show featuring more things that he didn't understand. Her voice was soft, thick with unshed tears. _Ah, there they are_. He didn't blame her for being upset, and he knew she didn't blame him. She seemed like such a sweet girl; he liked her, he decided.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, ignoring Troy, who seemed supremely pleased. "I know," he murmured in response. "I'm sorry, Ariel. I promise, I'm going to do whatever I can to make it better." He obviously had inherited the maturity he'd gained in those seven years he no longer had. There was apparently also a new fathering instinct he didn't recognize.

He didn't complain, or break down. They continued to watch TV as some sort of strange family unit. He just breathed, and squeezed Ariel's shoulder, sending Troy an unsure smile of his own. Troy threw his own arm over the back of the couch and squeezed Ryan's shoulder like he had their ward's.

* * *

><p>Their first fight, for all intents and purposes, happened several weeks after Ryan returned to the home he didn't remember. Ariel was on a trip with her mother and was to be gone for a good week, which she hadn't been happy about. It left them alone with plenty of time to talk – which of course left Ryan with plenty of time to mess things up.<p>

"Troy… whatever happened between you and Gabriella?"

Troy went very still and turned from the vegetables he was preparing slowly, giving Ryan a look that told him very clearly he didn't want to talk about it. Ryan wasn't going to back down, though, and didn't say anything, just continued to give the brunette a carefully constructed innocent expression. He'd been living with Troy, his husband and one hell of a good cook (surprisingly enough), for a month and the topic hadn't come up. He knew Troy was avoiding talking about it, but as his spouse he was thinking he had a right to know and he certainly wasn't going to go behind Troy's back and ask someone else.

"Nothing much. We split. You and I got together. End of story." Ryan raised an eyebrow.

"Funny, _darling_. I hadn't pegged you for a liar." Troy sighed, finishing the eggs and setting Ryan's plate in front of him. Ryan figured that he probably was regretting his zealous desire to have breakfast together before work, a meeting with a client.

"I don't want to talk about it, Ry."

The blonde sighed, picking at his eggs. "I do," he insisted stabbing a yolk particularly viciously. He didn't bother asking what it had ever done to him. "Don't I deserve to know?"

"Ryan," Troy said in a low voice. His expression gave away how antsy he really was. "Just drop it. You'll know when you remember, and then you'll be glad we didn't get into it now."

"Just how bad was it?" Ryan pried, a bad feeling developing in the pit of his stomach. So far, Troy hadn't hidden anything from him, so why would he start now? "Why are you hiding it from me? I have a right to know!"

"It almost cost me you!" he hissed, slamming his fist down onto the table. "It was the biggest mistake Gabi and I have ever made, and I don't want to go thinking about it now!"

"What do you have to be so ashamed of?" he yelled back, feeling the first tendrils of real anger since before he'd lost his memory.

Troy glared at him before growling in frustration, spinning around and leaving the kitchen, leaving his breakfast on the table.

"Where are you going, Troy?" he called hoarsely. He stood, food forgotten. He heard Troy pull his coat from the closet.

"To _work_, Ryan! I need to get some air!"

"Don't you run away from me, Troy Bolton!" he snapped, rushing after him before he could leave.

"Congratulations," Troy sneered. "You sound just like yourself again!"

"Don't change the subject," Ryan hissed, his fists clenching. Troy sat on the steps, reaching out for his shoes, and glared up at him, his jaw clenched. "Just tell me what happened, you ass!"

"Be patient until you remember everything! God, Ryan, you're so damn spoiled!" Troy's cheeks were quickly flushing an angry red.

"What if I don't remember? What then, Troy? What if I don't remember - are you going to tell me then? You're stuck on this stupid notion that this is all some bad dream and you'll wake up to find me in bed with you like it used to be!"

"Don't you tell me what I'm thinking," Troy roared, stepping back onto the carpet and getting in Ryan's face. "You have _no _idea! Do you realize how hard this has been on me? One minute, everything is fine, the next, my husband doesn't even remember being married to me!"

"It's been hard on me, too, Troy!" he snapped back, feeling angry tears well in his eyes. The only part of himself that he truly hated; he _always _cried when he was worked up. He knew from experience that his cheeks were probably blotchy with spots of red and his lower lip was trembling. Suddenly, Ryan had the feeling that fighting with Troy was the worst thing in the world. He'd never understood how Sharpay got so upset after a little fight with one of her boyfriends. Now he did. "My entire life is completely ruined! Not even counting Ariel, I barely know who I am, who any of my friends are, and I'm married to _you!_"

That last bit had come out before he'd thought about it and even as upset as he was, Ryan knew it was far below the belt. Troy's eyes, so blue and so expressive, betrayed his hurt and Ryan felt throat close up.

"Troy-" he croaked, finding that, surprisingly, it was getting difficult to breathe.

"I'll be back later, Ryan," Troy said quietly, but Ryan could only barely make out his voice. He just stood there in shock, his chest heaving with the effort he was expanding to get air, as Troy pulled on his shoes and left, the door slamming ominously.

"T-Troy," he whispered, his chest burning from lack of oxygen. His breath was coming in sharp little pants that offered no relief. He barely registered his knees giving and crashing to the floor, his cheek pressed against the plush white carpet.

"_You _used _me, Troy! To get back at Gabriella, you used me!" _

_There were tears streaming down his cheeks and he felt hot, dirty. His lips burned from the memory and suddenly he felt so worthless it was hard to stop yelling, trying to reclaim his dignity through anger. Troy was flushed and guilty, but it didn't stop him from getting mad anyways, like he always did when he was in a tizzy. He had no control over his emotions._

"_She hurt me, Ryan! I didn't mean to hurt you, and I know that it was horrible of me, but—"_

"_I liked you!" he cried, clutching at the hem of his shirt because he had nothing else to do with his hands that wanted to clench so hard his nails would dig into his skin and draw blood. "I really, really liked you, Troy! I thought I'd finally found myself, because of you, and you just—" He cut himself off, choking on a sob, but Troy didn't say anything. He didn't have to look up to know that Troy was probably on the verge of tears himself._

"_Did you really like me that much?" Troy's voice was quiet._

_Ryan coughed through his tears, looking up to glare. "I thought I was straight, Troy! Or asexual, or _something_! The only reason I knew I was gay was because of you, as stupid as it seems. I should have known… I just hadn't cared enough to think about it. The only reason… was you. I was finally comfortable with myself, because I knew I liked you, and I thought—" He choked again and ended up coughing violently, unable to stop crying, which didn't help._

"_Ryan." Troy's voice was soft, so soft, guilt clear in it. Ryan didn't even look up at him; he just slid down to his knees and sobbed. His eyes stung, his throat burned, and the ground was cold underneath his knees. Was it normal to feel so used? He had felt so wonderful when they had been together—now, he didn't think he'd ever regretted anything more. "Ryan, you—"_

_Instead of letting him speak, instead of letting him give his excuses, he just looked up and screamed, "_Get out of my theater_!" Hot tears blurred his vision. Troy was no more than a hazy silhouette that pulled away from him, following his order. Should he be glad or disappointed that Troy listened to him? He didn't know._

Ryan knew blackness, and only that.

* * *

><p>When he came to consciousness what could have been hours or minutes later, he was alone. He was sore and cold, his cheeks stiff with dried tears. The house was dark, the only light coming from a window feet away in the huge room. The motion sensor lights had long since gone out and his entire body was stiff. Squeezing his eyes shut tighter, he moaned softly and curled up on the floor, groaning at how his muscles resisted.<p>

He slowly tried to pull himself to his feet and ended up doubling over again in pain, biting his lip to stop from crying out. He forced himself upward, his legs shaking, and slowly made his way into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes because they _stung_. His body protesting, he picked up their breakfast plates, untouched and now cold, and dumped them both.

Feeling numb, he manipulated his hands and began rinsing off their plates, ignoring his stomach as it growled. _All that good food, gone to waste_, he thought to himself mindlessly as he washed. The warm water brought back just the slightest bit of feeling in his hands, but he finished far too quickly and was left with nothing to do. He didn't want to write, or compose, and they'd come to an agreement that he wouldn't work until he had his memories back.

His head pounded, be it from the slight snippet of his past that had returned or the knock to the head he'd taken when he fell, but he practically crawled upstairs, his legs not cooperating, and stumbled to his room. He rested his head against the door, wanting to go in at the same time that he didn't. His bed was cold, the room undecorated from being a guest room for so long.

He had told Troy what seemed like ages ago that he wasn't quite ready to share a room with him, to be so intimate, no matter how lonely he felt at night. It was weird; he'd never had many friends over (not that he had many to begin with) and always slept alone, yet suddenly knowing that he didn't have to had made him feel restless every night from the lack of warmth in bed with him.

He moved away from the door, tearing up at the effort it asked of him, and walked over to Troy's door. He pried it open and slipped inside, the room practically black.

He knew what it looked like. He knew the pictures on various shelves, knew the closet because he spent so much time in it getting clothes to wear for the day because he was too lazy to put them in the guest closet. He knew the wallpaper, and he knew soft navy blue carpet that had probably cost a fortune. He didn't have to turn the light on and intensify his headache to know exactly what Troy's room—_their _room—looked like.

He felt his way to the bed, feeling the soft sheets he'd probably picked out and slid underneath them. He was dressed simply in a white shirt and a pair of sweatpants, not bothering to take them off. He just buried his face into the pillow, inhaling the smell of _Troy_, and sobbed quietly into the fabric, feeling lost. He didn't know why he was crying and didn't care.

"Troy," he whispered before letting his eyes close.

* * *

><p>"Ryan? Ryan, baby, wake up... Ryan!"<p>

The blonde curled in on himself tighter, clutching the sheets closer. He didn't want to wake up; he'd been having such a lovely dream about a picnic, just him and Troy. Could he be blamed? He didn't know anything else anymore. Sharpay had gone back home to Albuquerque, where she was helping their father run Lava Springs, performing, in between musicals on Broadway (which they were all _so _proud of her for getting into). Kelsi… from what he gathered, they weren't on speaking terms. His parents called at least every other day, but he hadn't seen them since about a week after he left the hospital.

All he knew, all he had, was Troy. He felt sick and anxious, and he wanted to know what had happened with Gabriella, but he knew that whatever had happened, they had obviously made peace with it.

"_Ryan_!"

He forced his eyes open, blinking up at Troy's panicked face. He felt sweaty and disgusting, but Troy was looking at him in relief now and he couldn't move, leaning down to kiss all over his face.

"You wouldn't wake up," he murmured in between kisses. "I was so worried! I'm so fucking sorry for yelling at you earlier, Ryan—"

"Troy," he choked and turned his head to meet Troy's lips, desperate for the confirmation. "Oh, god, Troy." Then he was sobbing again and Troy was pulling him into his arms. He felt physically sick and it only got better the tighter Troy held him. He couldn't get enough air again, but now it was for a completely different reason.

Troy rocked him, murmuring apologies into his ear. Honestly, Ryan didn't need it. He knew—he didn't know how, but he knew—what Troy got like when he was worked up.

"I remembered something," he whispered when he was finished sucking in air like a fish out of water, hyperventilating into Troy's jacket. Troy stilled, pulling back to stare at his husband blankly. "I remembered…" His mouth was so _dry_. "Fighting in the theater at East High. Something about you using me to get back at Gabriella. Yelling at you." He didn't care if Troy was still in shock; he was going to cuddle him, damn it! He need the support, needed the warmth around him, surrounding him.

Troy knew exactly what he needed and tightened his arms again. "What happened?" he whispered. "I can't remember the details… just screaming at you to get out of my theater." He still thought of it that way, he realized absently.

Troy sighed. "Give me a minute to get comfortable." He closed his eyes and waited, feeling the bed dip as Troy crawled in. He heard the rustling of Troy's jacket as it was tossed to the floor—he must have panicked when he came home to a dark house, worried about Ryan. He felt Troy settle into his side, wrapping his arms around him, and he opened his eyes again, curling into the brunette's body.

"Troy," he whispered and felt lips against his temple.

"I fucked up bad, Ry," he sighed. "I don't know how much you… _remembered_, so I'll start at the beginning, okay?" He gave a nod so small it almost went unnoticed. "Just… don't be angry with me when I'm finished."

"We got through it once, already, didn't we?" he asked softly and he felt Troy smile, pressing another kiss to his forehead.

"Yeah." He was silent for a moment before he sighed again, deeply. "She cheated on me, Ryan. I caught her with some other guy when I was going to surprise her with a little picnic—god knows surprises never work out well in a relationship, do they?—and she just sat up, trying to play it off like he was a cousin or something visiting from "back home", wherever that was."

"Gabi doesn't have any cousins her age," Ryan said, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion, then wanting to smack himself for saying something they all knew. "Duh. Sorry. Continue."

Troy smiled briefly, but it was too soon before his expression was clouded again. "Look, Ry. I was… hurt. And angry—you have no idea. I'd been dealing with this attraction towards you, even if I was still with Gabriella, and I'd been hoping that picnic, just spending some time together, would get me off the fence." He looked down and made a soft, unhappy noise. "I said I fucked up, right?" Ryan nodded, not saying a word, waiting for Troy to continue. "I _did _use you to get back at Gabriella."

His confession was soft, almost inaudible, but it wasn't that shocking to Ryan. He'd already gathered that. Now he just wanted to know how, though he had a feeling he already knew. There wasn't really a chance the answer wasn't the obvious one in this situation. "Troy."

"I slept with you," he said quietly, his hand absently tracing circles onto Ryan's shoulder. Ryan didn't move, but he did tense, even if he'd been expecting it. "I was hurt, and confused, and you were there. You were always so damn understanding and you always had the answer. I wasn't thinking rationally, obviously." He gave a strained roll of the eyes. "I used my attraction to you, and your attraction to me, against both of us. You said you remembered yelling at me? That's because you found out about Gabi cheating on me… and about Chad telling her that we had sex."

"You couldn't have just included me in a revenge plan and told her we had sex when we didn't?" Ryan asked, his voice just as low as Troy's.

"Again with the lack of rational thinking. I was being stupid." The resounding _you can say that again _went unsaid, but Ryan was giving Troy the "look" to hide his own hurt. Troy saw it anyway and his blue eyes darkened. "You wouldn't talk to me for weeks—a little over a month, actually. And I couldn't blame you—I hurt you."

"I don't remember most of that," he admitted. "Just the yelling. And the pain. It hurt so _bad_, Troy. I don't remember crying that hard, ever. I mean, granted, I also can't remember seven years of my life, but you know what I mean." Troy gave a dry chuckle.

"I know," he said gently. "You walked around, avoiding meeting my eyes, and you looked like you were crying for the entirety of that month we weren't speaking. Sharpay kicked me in the balls at one point, you know."

Ryan hiccuped a laugh and looked up at him, a smile tugging on his lips despite himself. "For some reason, that sounds like exactly the sort of thing Sharpay would do in that situation. It seems like that worked out well, though—aren't you and Shar close? It seemed like it in the hospital." He'd be honest; he hadn't seen a lot of interaction between the two before she'd had to go home, but it _had _seemed like they were fairly good friends.

"Honestly? I'm glad she kicked me in the balls. For one, it showed me how pathetic I was, and it also gave me fair warning not to get on her bad side in the future." They both laughed softly. "But yeah, actually, we are. Sharpay… she's been there for me when most of my friends were too scared to speak up. When my dad died—" Ryan's mouth opened and closed. It had come up once, but he knew how hard of a subject it was for Troy to bring up. "Other than you, not even Chad was willing to really _be _here. He just couldn't see me in that much pain."

Ryan didn't say anything, but leaned up and kissed Troy to shut him up.

"You really are too good for me," he chuckled, his voice thick and Ryan just rolled his eyes.

"Everyone messes up," he rasped, startled to hear his voice so hoarse. Was he crying again? A quick swipe at his cheek told him he was. "But we worked through it, right? We're married." Troy nodded, resting his forehead against Ryan's.

"Far too good," he breathed, and captured Ryan's lips in a kiss that shook him to the core. He gently pressed him into the bed and Ryan gasped into Troy's mouth. "Too beautiful, too wonderful, too understanding. How did I ever manage to get you?" His lips were sucking the breath from Ryan's lungs.

"Troy," he called out, his voice slightly higher than normal, and he could feel his heart racing in his chest. "_Troy_—"

"I won't do anything you're not ready for," the brunette whispered against his lips, moving to his neck, pressing kisses up and down the pale column. "But can I _please _touch you? I love you so much, Ryan…"

Ryan's body answered for him, arching into Troy's hand as it brushed across a nipple. He was fairly sure his skin was the color of cherries, but Troy just looked up at him with the softest smile he'd ever seen. His husband rearranged himself across Ryan's body, their hips melding together. Ryan couldn't honestly say he was _surprised_ to feel that Troy was hard, nor that he found the thought insanely arousing. Despite the marriage, Ryan had insisted that he wasn't ready to be intimate, and he'd never seen Troy unclothed, let alone turned on.

But something about the situation, about Troy's body against him and his rapidly growing hardness pressed against an equally thrilling erection… how could he possibly push this gorgeous man away? "Troy," he whimpered when the brunette ground their hips together. When Troy pulled away with a faint smile, he was almost embarrassed to see the very obvious tent in his sweats. His sex life hadn't been very active before the accident and he wasn't by any means comfortable with the lower part of his body, sexually speaking… yet Troy looked infinitely pleased with the way his cock stood at attention.

"You're beautiful," his husband praised him and his skin flushed. He watched, biting his lip in anticipation, as Troy reached out, laying a large, warm hand on his pelvic bone. The hand slid downward, over his erection, and slowly rubbed against him, drawing a sharp cry from him. His eyes were drawn to the crotch of Troy's slacks and he bit his lip again, just a bit harder.

His eyes met Troy's again and he pulled him down for a kiss with one hand, the other following Troy's lead, rubbing against the rather impressive bulge, amazed to hear Troy's breathing quicken in his ear. "Been celibate for too long?" he asked breathlessly and Troy laughed out loud, the sound shaky.

"You would know, gorgeous," he chuckled and pulled his hand away. With his free hand, he pulled Ryan's away as well and he startled himself by feeling _disappointed_. He was appeased quickly enough, however, when those hands gripped his hips and rocking them forward. "Not too fast for you, Ryan." His name was a breathy pant in his ear. "We're going to have to take this _slow." _He punctuated that with a slow roll of his hips and Ryan let out a high keening sound he wasn't aware he was capable of making.

It was over quickly, so quickly that Ryan was past embarrassed and well in to shamed. Or at least, he _would _have been if Troy hadn't come so shortly after him that it seemed nearly simultaneous and had flopped down onto the sheets next to him with a crooked, boyish grin.

"I won't lie," he said and Ryan grinned back. "I've missed that." Ryan rolled his eyes and fit himself into Troy's side. "Not changing? Maybe a shower is in order… it's too soon to take one together, I think. You can go first."

"In a minute." For now, he was happy just lying there with his oh-so-handsome husband.

Troy pulled him up for just a moment and kissed his forehead, then his eyelid, then finally he placed a kiss on Ryan's waiting lips. "I'm glad you're not angry with me," he whispered. Ryan just hummed and repositioned himself, his head over Troy's heartbeat.

"I wanted to be," he murmured. "But it's in the past and like I said earlier, we already worked past it. Why retrace _all _of our steps?" Troy sighed in what sounded like relief and Ryan made himself comfortable. Despite what he'd said to Troy a minute before, he didn't plan on moving anytime soon.

"I love you," Troy whispered against his hair and he burrowed his head in the little crook where neck met shoulder. He could definitely get used to this.

**And end Part 1!**

**Kandakicksass**


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